


Cuddle Monkey

by Imzadi83



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imzadi83/pseuds/Imzadi83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Will/Helen drabbles post various episodes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into Sanctuary fiction. I may have come into the fandom late but am no less enthused. This was meant only to be drabbles of them cuddling (hence the title) but as turned into a bit more so it will not likely have that each chapter. Still I hope my little drabbles entertain you, and I thank you for stopping by.

It started after the submarine incident, or rather the worst part of it, as they were still on the submarine, Drs. Helen Magnus & Will Zimmerman. She was still lying on the floor with him crouched down beside her, his head on her shoulder as she stroked his hair softly, unable to do anything else to comfort him. Perhaps it should seem that the responsibility was unbalanced in that, after all she was the one who had died and had to be resuscitated. However she had lived long enough to know that while she would win the award for most physical pain suffered today, Will would be taking home the award for emotional pain. There was really no comparison, both of them had suffered today, but she had been through horrible times like today far more than he had. So though others might find it strange, her being the one to comfort him, she didn’t. In fact his warm face on her cold shoulder comforted her just as much, after all she had almost killed him today too. Would have, if he hadn’t killed her first. And though she would’ve had to learn to live with it, it wouldn’t have been easy. Will was special, in general and to her, though she wouldn’t admit it to him, not yet anyway. 

“Pick me up Will.” she said with a sigh. She was normally a gentle soul, not one to bark her orders or requests, but she was tired, cold, and didn’t have the strength for softness right now. She expected him to merely help her to sit upright, but he took her request literally and scooped her up in his arms. He didn’t make any attempt to hide that he found her weight burdensome and she couldn’t blame him, he must have been exhausted as well. He may have gone through Quantico, but she didn’t think he kept up his fighting skills. Likely he hadn’t needed them much in the past, but in their line of work she made a mental note to make him schedule some training time with Ashley. 

He laid her down in the bottom bunk and she pulled at him, refusing to let him go. She almost killed him, her promising protégé, and in that moment she allowed herself to give into the fear the situation had caused her on that account. 

“Magnus.” he protested, not even sure what he was protesting. He is a gentlemen, and sometimes she thinks he would have been better suited to her time than his. She wondered what different turns her life would have taken if she had known him then. Would he still look at her with such wonder, if she didn’t have such stories to tell? 

“Lay down with me William.” She says it firmly, too much like a command to her liking, but he didn’t protest and squeezed in beside her on the bunk. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be allowing this. It’s unprofessional, but than so little of what she has done recently has been. The bunk is too small for him to scoot down and lay his head back on her shoulder, as he seems to want to do. Instead he settles for laying snuggled up against her side, his face resting against the side of hers. His breath is warm against her cheek and down her neck as it escapes his lungs, and she follows it’s rhythm until she is asleep. He follows her soon after.

Later, when they wake, still damp from the water, she will sit on the edge of the bunk and think thoughts she knows she shouldn’t. She is grooming Will to take over, to be her successor, not her partner; but as she feels Will’s hand rub along her back, turns her head to see the longing in his eyes over her shoulder she will realize that that may not be what Will wants. She will wonder if she will come to care enough about that to change her mind. 

She doesn’t think so.


	2. Losses and Gains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She says nothing, doesn’t even make eye contact as she brushes past him into the room. He thinks she might speak to him, until he hears the rustle of sheets and he remembers that there are no words worth speaking right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after "End of Nights pt 2". Will's POV.

They could argue that they won against the cabal. Or at least they defended their home. No one is arguing that of course. Tesla isn’t even gloating about the success of his weapon. So many people are dead, so much work destroyed. Not that Will or Magnus care about that. They both know, without speaking, where the thoughts of the other lie. Ashley and Clara. Both died heroes, and both left behind people who couldn’t care less about that fact. Both are thinking that they did something wrong, didn’t love them enough while they had them.

Will knows it’s Magnus at his door before he even gets out of bed to answer the knock. Magnus is in her pajamas, it’s late and her hair is mused from her futile attempts to sleep. She says nothing, doesn’t even make eye contact as she brushes past him into the room. He thinks she might speak to him, until he hears the rustle of sheets and he remembers that there are no words worth speaking right now. 

She lays on her back on one side of the bed and he does the same on the other. He expects her to cuddle up next to him, or to do something to indicate that she wants to be either the big or little spoon but she just lays there, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. He half expects her to cry, but it’s Magnus, and her breathing is eerily even. He thinks that they might lay awake like this all night, and it’ll mean something more to the both of them then sleeping side by side but the sound of her steady breathing and the scent of her that wafts over to him soothes him enough that he can start to feel himself drift off. His last thoughts are that he should really try to be a gentleman and stay on his side of the bed, even if one could argue that she was less than a lady for crawling in with him in the first place. 

Of course his best laid plans always seem to go awry. He dreams of Clara as he dozes. He thinks that he should have loved her more, done something more, but he doesn’t know what. He thinks, most of all, that he shouldn’t have been with her at all, if he hadn‘t she might have evacuated with the others, and lived. He seems to attract women that want to give everything of themselves for him when he knows in his heart he is unworthy. He shouldn’t be so unkind as to do this to them, he really does not want to be the kind of man this makes him, but he can’t stand being alone, sleeping alone. 

It’s then that his brain once again registers Magnus beside him and as he half wakes and realizes she’s still not sleeping he gives into his need to be close and rolls over to snuggle at her side. His head on her shoulder, she sighs and reaches out to stroke his hair as she did that day on the submarine. It’s not fair, once again his relationship with a woman is unbalanced, not to mention it once again puts Magnus in the maternal position in their relationship which just makes him feel dirty in ways he thinks he’ll take to his grave. Still, he can’t help but feel satisfied with himself when he hears Magnus’ breathing slow and feels her hand in his hair doing the same. He hadn’t expected that she would be able to sleep for a long while after…and he is glad he can do this for her. He thinks as he drifts off with her that perhaps, for a few blissful moments, they can both find peace.


	3. End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Pavor Nocturnus" Magnus' POV

Helen Magnus would have been lying if she said that the very thought of Will with Kate hadn’t devastated her more than finding out she’d woken up in the middle of an apocalypse. He doesn’t acknowledge it at first, and she’s more than glad not to press. But she knows, of course she knows, and it breaks her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. It’s just a fantasy, her and Will, but the death of that is painful all the same. 

At first when he tells her that he had a child with Kate the first emotion she feels is jealousy. She is jealous of the family unit they had, without her. Irrational, she knows. After all she had been long dead in this timeline, likely she died before he and Kate even became a couple. She won’t think that they ’got together’, that is too American and feels too detailed. 

The truth is that she loves Will. Not in the clear way she had felt with past romances, protégés, or even those she loved like surrogate children. Her feelings surrounding Will are complicated and best left to the dark private recesses of her mind. She is of course, flattered, to learn that their son was named after her. It’s more than just an honor, it feels like a connection, like a sign of some kind of love. He wanted to take her with him into the future. To be sure that she was not forgotten to the annals of time. That means more to her than she thought she’d ever receive from him. And that he would trust her to raise his son, touches her heart and makes her want to live on. Something that she didn’t think possible. 

She is glad though when it doesn’t come to that, when she is able to prevent the apocalypse from happening in the first place. Though she will forever wonder what Will’s child would have looked like, and what it would have been like to raise him in such a world. Her heart is warmed to see Will, her Will, untainted by the horror she has just witnessed standing in her office beaming at her in that way, both innocent and wise that only he can. 

Standing at the window, they are both silent for a long time while she debates what, if anything, to tell him.

“I had a dream while I was gone. That you had a son, that you named him after me.” He looks at her briefly, then turns back to the window. Most people would respond right away, determine what she wants to hear and then tell her that. Will is different however, thoughtful, and she appreciates that more then all the platitudes he could offer her.

“Magnus Magnus though? Don’t you’d think he’d get teased for that?” he says, blind to what he has really just said, how he just admitted that when he thinks about having a child the first thing he thought of was having it with her. 

They look at each other, she grins broadly, and she can see his confusion on why he made her smile. She could call him on it, tease him about it, but she won’t. For all she knows it could be a fragile thread of an idea flittering in his mind, and she won’t risk snapping it.

“Perhaps I’m a traditionalist, but I was assuming he’d be a Zimmerman.” He smiles at that, a cheeky, shy kind of smile, and she feels as if she’s has just given him a gift. She wonders if the only scenario of having a child in his mind comes from the idea that she would one day ask him for sperm. She sighs, and decides not to go down that road. Still, she wonders what he is thinking. 

“I always imagined you naming a son after your father.” he says.

“Yes, well, I suppose I would.” They stand in silence for a while longer. She wants to be with him, to spend the day simply basking in the joy of having him alive and safe at her side, but there is far to much work to catch up on to take a holiday. 

“What are your plans for the evening?” She asks, and he turns his head and raises an eyebrow at her, the look on his face one of worry. She chuckles at that and smiles. “Nothing like that. I thought we might spend some time together, not working.” She wants to add that she’s missed him, but that still feels like a step too far across the line.

“Alright,” he replies, his eyes lighting up in an eager way that fills her with warmth. “what did you have in mind?” She had nothing in mind really, had not thought of asking until this very moment, and her brain scrambles to come up with something. It needs to be benign, innocent, nothing that could be construed as a date.

“I have a movie I’ve been meaning to watch, I’d enjoy having some company.”

“I’ll make the popcorn.” She smiles and reaches out to squeeze his bicep before turning to leave. He lets his arm follow her, holding onto her touch as long as he can, but he drops it away before their fingers touch.


	4. After Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Fragments"

She doesn’t go to his room, there’s no point, she knows he’s not there. She doesn’t keep track of when the others are scheduled to do the 2am feedings, but she does keep track of Will’s schedule. It gives her piece of mind knowing where he is. She tells herself it’s because, despite how long it’s been, he’s new. It’s a lie of course, and not a very good one even by her own placating standards.

 She wants to talk to him, say something to him. She isn’t sure what exactly, but her conversation with Henry left her raw and the broken look on his face had haunted her for the rest of the day. Even while she was saying what she said, she couldn’t help but think of herself and Will. What is happening between them. Part of her thinks she should just put an end to it, just stop, but she doesn’t know how to stop something that has never officially begun and there is no label for. She considers too that she can’t stop, even if she really wanted to, which she doesn’t. She is a moth to Will’s flame or he is the moth to hers. Perhaps both, perhaps that’s the problem. They are each other’s drug, each other’s guilty pleasure. But this…whatever it is that they have is far beyond the realm of a joint or a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough. What they are doing is dangerous, even more so that the more solidified dangers they face every day.

She finds him in the enclosure of giganteum hierocera cattus. Giant moths as big as small terriers and with behavior akin to housecats. They were a reemergence from holdover DNA from the time when large insects were the norm. They required higher concentrations of atmospheric oxygen as did the flora that make up their habitat. Deep in the rainforest they had clung to life before a Sanctuary led expiration was pointed in their direction by concerned natives who did not want to see the creatures, sacred to their tribe, die out. So the Sanctuary took them and as much of their habitat that was possible before it was mowed down by the logging company that was due to come through.

 She observes Will in the enclosure, an humid habitat right out of a primeval nightmare. There is something innately frightening about the look of the enclosure, causing most newcomers to be hesitant about stepping up to the glass, let alone stepping foot inside. She hadn’t been there to see Will’s first reaction to it, but she imagined it was much the same. Most people take some reassurance before going inside. Short of the type of accidents you could have in any forest type setting though there is no danger here. The moths are docile and harmless, kept inside for their own safety and because there is no where in the world where they would be safe and thrive otherwise. They have life spans of two to three years, and meticulously slow reproduction rates and requirements. Because of that they are fragile and extinct outside of the Sanctuary Network. If it wasn’t for their need for a particular climate they would actually make nice pets. Ashley had spent a lot of time with them as a child, having each one named and mourned over when they died. 

She joins him in the enclosure. He is filling one of the feeders, one of the moths perched on his shoulder. It’s antenna are twitching like cat whiskers and it’s proboscis is reaching out as far as it can to get at the food Will is spooning into the feeder 

“Here you go little guy.” he says, holding the spoon back closer to it so it can reach. There is a sense of wonder on his face, at spoon feeding such a creature, until the moth wraps it’s proboscis around the spoon and snatches it out of Will’s hand and shoves it into his own mouth faster than Will can stop it. 

“Oh no, oh God.” he starts with a panic, his face turning from awe to horror. No doubt he thinks he’s doomed the poor thing to death by choking. Helen starts to laugh hysterically at the sight, her hand coming up to her mouth in an futile effort to stop herself. 

“It’s not funny.” he says, finally noticing her presence behind him. “How do you do the Heimlich on a moth? Should we get it into surgery?” He’s dead serious of course, and though she should praise his dedication and compassion she just can’t stop laughing.

“Magnus!” Before she can tell him it will be alright the creature coughs up the spoon with a disgusted squeak and flies off.

“Really Will, it’s fine. Happens quite frequently I assure you.” He looks embarrassed now and she takes pity on him, coming over to rest her hand on his shoulder.

“Someone could’ve warned me.”

“Now now, where would the fun be in that?” He gave her a slight glare, though she knew he wasn’t really angry, and he smiled at her when she joined him and helped with the rest of the feedings. They worked in silence for awhile as they went from enclosure to enclosure before Will seemed to tire of it, or perhaps the churnings of the wheels in his head simply became too loud to ignore. 

“You okay?”

“No.” She admitted with a sigh, knowing there was no use in lying to him. And truthfully it wasn’t something she wanted to do to him anyway. She had promised honesty and she didn’t want to break it. But she was, in her heart she knew she was lying to him, by omission if nothing else. 

“No?”

“Just thinking about Henry I suppose.” Will nodded and she saw he had that lost look about him now. The one that said he was far wiser than his years. She supposed some of it was his training. She had taken courses and attended lectures on psychology, from some of the pioneers in the field no less. Still she never had been able to understand people the way Will did. 

“They’re both feeling a lot of guilt right now.” Now it was his turn to sigh. “What Gerald did isn’t on them, he made his own decisions. But relationships are not started or ended in a vacuum. And what they did or didn’t do is something they’re both going to have to learn to accept if they want to deal with it and move past it.” He sighs and she listens intently to the sound of his breathing as he pauses to think.

“Regardless of what may happen down the road, for now it might be better if they deal with their own feelings first. Especially Henry, he clearly still has some self-identity issues it might be best for him to deal with before he gets into any romantic relationship, regardless of who that’s with.” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“I usually am.” he teased. She smiled back at him but he could see she too was thinking. He turned back to the dishes they were finishing stacking in the industrial sized dishwasher. It wasn’t really a two person job and he could see her hesitating. 

“I’ll think I’ll head up to bed.”

“Goodnight Magnus.” She almost made it out of the room, almost, but the memory of Henry’s love sick expression stopped her and she turned around. She watched Will’s back as he worked, though of all the things that could go wrong, all the ways that she could lose him, and spoke.

“You’ll come up? After you’ve finished?” He turned around and looked at her for a long tense moment. She knew he was going through the meanings that could be attributed to her words. She could say more, but the more blatant invitation to sleep in her bed stuck in her throat. It was crass and would only serve to remind her how wrong this all was, and she didn’t want to think about that tonight. She just wanted to fall asleep with his head on her shoulder after a long difficult day. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll just…grab some pajamas and come up?” She knew he was asking, checking, she had never invited him into her bed before and she knew that he didn’t want to misstep. 

“Good, I’ll leave my doors unlocked, lock them on your way in would you.”

“Sure, or course.” she smiled at him and turned to leave. It would be chaos down the road of course, but tonight she would sleep in peace.


	5. One A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after "Veritas"

Will continued to stand there while Kate joked around with Magnus. He felt awkward, it was awkward. Their boss put an abnormal bug in her head, faked a murder, and risked her life, all to catch a criminal telepath. Helen Magnus, a one woman detective agency. To be fair it was a rather clever, if crazy, plan. Though he knew better then to tell her that. She was high enough on her own brilliance as it was, and besides, Kate was fawning enough for both of them.

When he had first met Magnus he could tell she was a brilliant scientist, but he had always had trouble reconciling the woman he knew with the mad scientist who’d injected herself with source blood and almost married Jack the Ripper. He could see it now though, and it kind of terrified him. It also kind of didn’t, which terrified him even more. What kind of man did that make him, aligning himself to a one hundred and fifty eight year old woman who was bat shit crazy.

The conversation between Kate and Magnus started to lag after a time, and the looks between Magnus and himself gave Kate the hint that it was time to excuse herself. After she left they both stayed silent for a time, figuring out what to say. He could feel Magnus’ eyes on him, studying him, but as he couldn’t bring himself to meet them he studied her kimono instead. Busying himself with wondering if it was just an article of clothing or if it had a story behind it, he was so engrossed with making up his own story that it took him a moment to realize she had even broken the silence.

“Would you like your free shot now?” she asked again with a teasing glint in her eyes. He didn’t get the joke though, and wrinkled his brow in confusion. She tapped her chin in clarification. “Right in the kisser. It’s only fair don’t you think? I got in my free shot today. One a day wasn‘t it?” It was dark humor that on another day might have made him chuckle. Not today.

“Magnus.” He said firmly, his voice tight and tired. She sighed and looked for the first time apologetic. It was what he needed from her and he felt his frustration and anger start to drain out of him. She was still her, after all.

“Magnus I thought…I thought…”

“That our occasional cuddles were a symptom of my cognitive deterioration?” He sighed, he hadn’t been thinking that, not at this particular moment anyway. At this moment he was still being haunted by the memory of her unconscious and seizing on the gurney. But the other thing…yes, he had thought it, and since she had brought it up they might as well deal with it.

“Do you have to call it that, your accent makes it sound so…dirty.” She laughed at that and he was glad for the sound. He had feared he’d never hear her laugh again, never wrap his arms around her again.

“Would it be less so if I used the word ‘snuggle’?” she said, biting her bottom lip and thrusting up her chin in that innocent way she somehow still managed even after all these years. He could imaging her younger when she did this. Imagine her at Oxford, strolling around the campus; eager, bright, and untainted by time. He would have liked to have known her then, when there was a chance to be equals. It was unlikely that she would’ve ever loved him, not with all the more brilliant men dogging her steps, but they could’ve been friends. There would’ve been less tension. And he could’ve reached out to touch her without worry, laid his head on her shoulder after a hard day. Then again maybe not, it was the Victorian era after all, but it was fun to dream.

“No,” he said, laughing himself now. “I think not.”

“What would you call it then?” she asked, tilting her head. He noticed the glint in her eyes, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip. He wondered if she was still feeling the effects of the ozone beetle or if she was simply high on her own brilliant success. He wondered how long it would be before she came up with another cockamamie plan that put him through the wringer, again. All of a sudden he felt very tired. It must have shown on his face because he saw hers soften. She scooted over on the gurney as much as she could and pulled back the rough hospital blanket, inviting him in. He looked around guiltily, not sure if he cared about what someone walking in would think about him or her, but in the end he toed off his shoes and carefully crawled in beside her. He snuggled down against her side and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath and reveled in the scent of her skin, sighing contently. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. He loved that feeling, the softness of her fingers with the sharpness of her nails digging into his scalp. Soft and sharp, that was who Helen Magnus was, more extreme then he had imagined perhaps, but Magnus all the same.

“It broke my heart when you didn’t trust me.” he confessed, his lips tickling the skin above her pulse. 

“I wasn’t myself. And I do trust you, completely. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have been able to go through with the plan. It was all you.” She wasn’t lying, without Will the plan would not have worked. He was the key. To a lot of things, if she was honest. He made her concurrently vulnerable and untouchable. It had been so confusing in her head, the high and the low of the psychotic influence of the beetle. She had wanted him and pushed away from him all at the same time, thoughts and actions unable to reconcile themselves. There had been no lonelier place then the feeling that Will had abandoned her. 

Magnus felt Will’s body relax against her side as he started drifting off to sleep. He must’ve been so tired. She felt bad for what she put him through. She didn’t regret what she did, it worked after all, but that scientific-ageless detachment was hard to maintain where Will was concerned. He cared, he got attached, and there was something about him that drug her down with him. Sinking, as they had been back in the Nautilus. If recent events showed her anything however it was that she was in danger of drowning him. She would have to stop. This would have to stop.


End file.
